


I kissed your blood; you spilled mine.

by Sermna



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, nonsburb au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-13
Updated: 2015-01-13
Packaged: 2018-03-07 11:31:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3172668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sermna/pseuds/Sermna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There would be a day when you would hold a sword with her blood on it, but that was a lifetime away in a universe you would never know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I kissed your blood; you spilled mine.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [girraffepancakes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/girraffepancakes/gifts).



You find her skulking on her bed, her feet planted on the wall and her hair tumbling off the side of the bed. There is something cruel in the way her body curves; forced and angry. Even her hair invokes a sense of restlessness, tangled in on itself until the whole mass has no hope of reform. She has probably never used conditioner. You make no secret of your entrance, and she rolls her head back to glare at you. Her face is a plane of ragged metal, dark and glittering, sharp and angry. One eye is covered in gauze.

You meet her eye for a moment, then turn your head towards the wall opposite her. It’s painted dark blue and plastered in movie posters, and of course your eye is immediately drawn to the radiantly yellow Nirvana poster. Your tongue registers lemon, just strong enough to drown out all the poison she’s shooting at you. You stand stiff. She might be pissed, but she can’t quite hide the hurt in her face from you.

“So, the bitch returns,” she spits, and you almost give her the satisfaction of a small wince.

“I return.”

She rolls around in a sort of sickening way, and you distinctly hear her knee pop. You’ve never seen her lay down for so long, especially during a confrontation. And there have been a lot of them. Your friendship has, always, been based on antagonism; there is a thrill to it, something wild that glows in her eyes and itches through your fingers. You don’t really feel much of it now. She’s intimidating, even laying down in stupid pajamas, and your grip on reality is loosening. This is the scene from a movie, or a passage from a book. It is not really happening to you. It can’t be.

There is a long moment of silence, and then-

“What if my sister had been the one to check the mail?” She is quite nearly biting her words, and you can’t tell if its from pain or anger.

Jeez, you weren’t stupid about it. “Your sister does not check the mail. Your mom doesn’t either. Only you check the mail! And only you are enough of a fucking psycho to shove Tavros off a cliff!”

At this she forces herself up with one arm, revealing the other to be cocooned in a cast. “Talk about ‘fucking psychos!’ You put a pipe bomb in my mailbox.”

You can’t help it. Your spats before involved stickers in each other’s underwear, and buckets of water, and Nair in your shampoo. You were like sisters! You even looked a little alike, if you could forgive the five inch difference. You clawed and spit and pulled hair, not maimed. But Aradia and Tavros are in the hospital, and now Vriska has only one eye and a ruined arm. You fight the urge to cry.

She stares at you a moment, and then her expression softens. It’s worse to look at than anything else. She stands up, a little awkwardly, and for an insane moment you want to hug her. What’s happening to both of you? You are only sixteen, but you’ve already had a taste of vitriol and you’ve never liked anything better. This is too far. It’s too fucking far.

“I told the police I saw a man plant the bomb,” she almost whispers, advancing slowly. “They’re out looking for someone that doesn’t exist. I protected you.”

You can’t do anything but stare into her remaining eye, as blue as her walls.

“But now,” she whispers, close enough that you realize she smells like sour laundry, “now, I am going to MAKE YOU PAY.”

You don’t even have time to scream before she cakes something in your eye that burns-

 

-

 

Vriska takes your long hair in one hand and slides her hand down to shoulder length, her long fingers tangling into it. You are almost vibrating with anticipation, a tiny bomb that’s due to explode any second.

"It's going to look shitty," she says, already preparing the scissors like she's excited about the prospect.

"Your hair always looks shitty and you’re still okay. Cut it!"

She does, as quickly as she can saw through the thick hair, and you get a deep wave of satisfaction. Nothing can hold you back! You are the embodiment of teenage spirit, the very incarnation of spontaneity! Vriska gives an ugly snort.

"Told you it'd be ugly."

You run your fingers through it happily, feeling your fingers getting caught in the thick edge left by the scissors. "I don't give a single fuck. This is what I wanted."

“Well, great. It matches your face. You ready to play now?”

You are.

 

-

 

You won’t lie, it’s really hard not to feel like a badass. Anyone who got too close to you right now would undoubtedly be ensconced in the musk of pure competence. You just got these red shades that make it really hard to see but that you love anyway, and your shirt has a dragon on it. Your paintball gun even has little smiley face stickers on the side! If you were in an action movie, you would be the plucky protagonist that somehow takes out a whole enemy base. If you were in a crime show, you would be wearing a trenchcoat and standing straight, gun in the air, target in your scope. But of course, you aren’t, and also you don’t have a scope, and ALSO you aren’t quite cool enough to just casually stand in plain sight, so you’re crouched behind a bush instead.

      You can see Aradia in the distance. She’s got her gun in her left hand and her hat in the right, running across an open patch of ground to the west. You raise your gun slightly, wondering if taking a shot is worth giving away your position, but change your mind. You don’t have a lot of room to aim and she’s moving pretty fast. You’ll probably just have to follow her.

Another couple of seconds and she’s out of sight again, so you stand up and start to jog as quietly as you can in her direction. It’s pretty easy on the grassy parts, but the thicker the trees get the more obvious it is that you’re going to have to think of something else before someone notices you tromping along like a damn cow.

No telling where Vriska is; she has a flair for the dramatic and likes to climb up in trees to make what she calls “sweet sniper shots!” It’s only actually worked once, but whatever. It’s not a bad idea, but Aradia just seems to have this knack for knowing where both of you are. In fact, it’s a little surprising that she didn’t even glance in your direction; you did step on a twig earlier. She’s clearly way too excited to notice you. At this point all you know is that Aradia and Tavros have something up their sleeves this time. They’ve always been competent opponents, but not nearly vicious enough to match you or Vriska, so they’re pretty behind on the score. You scrunch your mouth to the side and wonder.

She can’t be too far ahead; you’d hear her. Maybe she stopped? You creep forward, gun sort of awkwardly at your side, listening really hard. There is a strange absence of sound, even from the birds.

And that is when you are shot from behind.

You dummy!! You whip around to see your attacker, and sure enough, there is Tavros looking uncharacteristically smug with his gun in hand.

“I uh, I didn’t expect that to work,” he says. You’re finding it very difficult to be appropriately angry when he looks so genuinely and adorably pleased.

“I’m impressed, nerdface!” You say. And you are, a little. Not that it was a very impressive maneuver, but it doesn’t have to be clever to work. You look past his shoulder and see a flash of blue. Ah, there she is. You crack a smile.  “Allow me to look properly dead.”

You lay down on your back, ignoring the mud, and let out a small “bleh.” Tavros laughs.

And, of course, then he is shot by Vriska. You smile up at him.

“Jeez Tavros, don’t let yourself get so distracted!” Vriska says, using the obnoxiously grandiose tone she always does when she thinks she’s hot shit. The nerd even tied her jacket around her neck in the approximation of a cape.

And looking at her like that, you suddenly feel something stir in your stomach. At first you think it is contempt, but then you realize it's something a little more... warm. Oh fuck. The way she's looking at you right now, with her hair tied up and her eyes so wide, you realize she's beautiful. And also, you kind of really truly hate her.

You're too busy being lost in your own confusing emotions to think about where Aradia went, but if you had it would've been overwhelmingly obvious.

After all, wouldn't you expect a teammate to exact revenge like that, especially Vriska? Wouldn’t you expect her to be in a certain place at a certain time to do it?

Vriska is still smirking when Aradia’s dark red paintball hits her square in the chest.

 

-

 

After the game you lose track of time. Your arms are sore and prickly, and you are hungry beyond belief. No telling where Vriska went; she never handles loss well. Aradia got her fair and square, which just makes it do much worse on Vriska. You swing your gun up onto your shoulder in the way you know you’re not supposed to but that makes you look super cool. A crisp breeze hits you from the west where the ocean looms behind your house. Your mom is probably beginning to worry about you. The stars are just beginning to come out and you are feeling full as a tick with potential when you mount the stairs to the front porch.

You walk in your front door to the piercing eyes of your mother, who has apparently been waiting in the front room for you to get home. You shoot her a grin that doesn’t quite distract from your bruises. The corners of her mouth dip downwards, a look that somehow suits her angular face.

“Terezi,” she says, sharp but not angry.

“Yes?”

“A good portion of your hair has been chopped off.”

You reach a hand up to touch it, and yeah, it’s about two feet shorter. Funny; you’d already forgotten you’d done it, somehow. Short hair just felt that natural to you.

“Oh. Yeah.”

Your mom rolls her eyes, and the tension is gone from the room.

“Damn. At least let me even it out for you, little chick. Dinner’s on the table.”

She got you a hamburger from Burger King, which is pretty much awesome. You drown it in ketchup and eat it with a fork while your mom snips quietly away at your hair.

When she’s done, she hands you a mirror. Your face is flushed still, and your hair curls itself around your face in a messy frame. Behind you, your mom is standing straight and strong, smiling at the light in your eyes.

“You’d better go outside,” she says after a few moments. “Your friend is probably waiting for you.”

Jeez, you don’t want to know how she knows these things. She kisses you on top of the head and then scoots you out, her face showing distinct amusement.

“She’s on the beach.”

 

-

 

Vriska is little more than a hungry sack of bones sprawled on the sand by the ocean, a scorpion without a stinger. She is wearing jeans and a leather jacket three times too big for her, and under her hair her glasses glisten out at you. She is fifteen and resembles a ripped piece of metal. You are fourteen, and your crown is a paper one from Burger King. You plop yourself down by her.

There is nothing but uncertainty here; neither of you are quite sure where you stand after your fight. There is only her, with her too-large teeth, and you, with greasy fingers. You almost can’t breathe with the way she is staring at you.

“What do you want from me,” she asks, her voice giving one precise break.

“Maybe for you to not look so pathetic about losing.”

She sticks her tongue out, a little white at the center; she’s probably been sick. So stupid, what is she doing by the cold ocean?

You lick at your fingers, still tasting a bit of ketchup, and she watches you with mild disgust. You grin, and feel the sharp pain of your dry lip cracking. Blood trickles down, and before you can wipe it away Vriska leans over to kiss you.

It only lasts a second and when it’s over it feels like it never happened at all, except that now she has blood on her lips too.

“You know, Pyrope?” Vriska says vaguely.

“What?”

“We could do anything we wanted. Literally anything! And we would be amazing. Unstoppable, even.”

You look at her, but she has her eyes fixed on the stars. She’s starting to smile a little bit, and stupid you, it’s making your lips twitch up too.

“Yes. Yes I do know,” you say.

She kisses you again, and then another time after that.

Your uncertainty is gone, drowned and lost in the sound of the ocean.

 

-

 

Vriska looks you in the eye, and you want to scream. You want to gnaw a hole through her neck. You want to kiss her.

You do none of these things, and she cracks her knuckles to fill the space you left.

"Why?" you ask finally.

She laughs and you feel the blood drain out of your face entirely. "Why! Oh man, she asks why. I did it because he was a loser, and he needed to learn a goddamn lesson."

You gape at her, because it's all you can do. Of all the excuses you imagined, of all the words... this was. This was the end of it. You hate her so much that it manifests in thick hot tears, and when you turn your back to her you hope that she realizes that she is unlikely to see you as a friend ever again.

 

-

 

It's easy to figure out how to make the bomb. It's even easier to get to her house. The hard part is planting it, but you think of Aradia's ruined face and suddenly you don't actually have control of your actions. She wants this as much as you do, you can feel that. Her soul is screaming in a single long note somewhere inside of you, and when you get home you do nothing but stare out your window until it goes dark and cold outside.

 

-

 

You are blind. Not partially, but entirely. There is a girl to blame, but you haven't talked to her in a very, very long time. She may as well be dead to you. Honestly, the only reason you know she isn't is because she still messages you. It drives you insane. It makes your nose feel like it's stuffed full of pepper that you just can't sneeze out.

You want her _gone_.

But Vriska is like syrup stuck in your hair, and you can’t even chop it off this time.

She’s never come by again though, not in person. You are simultaneously relieved and pissed off by this. As dumb as you are, thinking about her still makes your head swim a little bit. She was your best friend; you and she could do anything. Anything!

But how were you supposed to know that while you lay kissing her on the beach, Tavros was lying paralyzed on a different part of it? How were you supposed to know?

What were you supposed to do?

 

Your name is Terezi Pyrope, and you have lost your other half.


End file.
